Shakespearean Fool
by ComicalEpiphanies
Summary: One person saw it all. Or should we say, started it all? Matt's sophomore year of high school. Canon-compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello fellow DD fans! Here's the newest story to the fandom. You might recognize some aspects of the story _Accidental Hero _by Girlwithoutfear, but this story was written more than a year ago. It was almost done when I read the first chapter of _Hero_. It is my fourth DD story, and the first time I ever tried to really describe anything. I hope it shows some improvement over_ From Hell's Kitchen _and _Blurred Edges_, but I shall let you be the judge of that. As for the editing, it has been looked over by a few of my friends (none on the cite), ModernScribe, and of course, Girlwithoutfear. Hopefully they caught everything. And without further ado: _Shakespearean Fool. _**

_

* * *

A man walks down a deserted street, his suit slightly rumpled, as if he'd put it on in a hurry, his eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses, despite the late hour. Suddenly the man stops. He thought he'd heard something…_

Fifteen years earlier:

Matthew Murdock's hand shot up before anyone else had time to process the question. His teacher wasn't surprised, this was almost always the case.

"Mr. Murdock, would you like to answer?" Mrs. Quentin had to hold back a smile. It wasn't like Matt actually had a choice; his was the only hand up.

Matt took a deep breath. "King Henry the Eighth made Great Britain Protestant in order to divorce his wife, Catherine of Aragon." He paused for a second, deciding whether or not he should continue. "He divorced Catherine, making Mary unable to ascend the thrown. He then married Anne Bolen-" The fifteen-year old boy stopped suddenly, realizing he was only digging himself a bigger hole.

"Is there something wrong?" His teacher looked concerned.

"No, that's just as much as I know," Matt lied. He actually could have gone all the way into Queen Elizabeth's reign, but he knew that wouldn't score him any points after school.

"All right then, thank you, Mr. Murdock, for getting us that far. Now, can anyone tell me why the king divorced Catherine of Aragon?"

oooooooo

"Good show in there, pet."

Matt didn't need to turn around to recognize that voice. "Thanks Kelson, I didn't think you were paying attention." Matt regretted opening his mouth as soon as he heard himself speak. Rick Kelson had been teasing him for as long as he could remember and he didn't need anymore material.

"Funny. When did you grow a backbone, 'Daredevil'?" the bully sniggered. His buddy, who'd just come up behind him, played on the joke.

"I guess he had to. You know, Rick," he turned to face Matt, his smirk wide and taunting, "you need to be brave to turn the pages of the big, bad books in the middle of the night."

Since Matt was little, his father had told him not to fight. He'd encouraged him to stick to school and turn another cheek to the boys that weren't going anywhere. But this was the last straw. Matt had been bullied because of his work ethic for too long. He dropped his backpack on the ground, getting ready to make a stand.

The bullies noticed Matt's determination. "So ya wanna fight, Daredevil?" Rick Kelson took off his jacket. His friends stepped forward but he stopped them, "No, this is between me and Daredevil."

Rick and Matt looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Matt made the first move. He threw a punch at his enemy, but he was too slow. Rick moved out of the way easily.

"You're as fast as your father!" Rick sniggered, landing a punch on Matt's lip. It started bleeding into his mouth, but Matt didn't taste it. Rick had pushed way too many of his buttons.

Matt's father was a boxer. He'd gone against the best of them, but that was before Matt was born. Now his boxing name, Battlin' Jack Murdock, was fading from everyone's memory.

Matt forgot about his promise to his father not to fight. He forgot that he hadn't landed a punch in his life. He forgot to be afraid.

Rick hadn't noticed the look in Matt's eyes or the change in his stance. He was still laughing at his last jibe. But he did notice Matt's fist in his eye.

He jumped back, a look of pure shock on his face. His friends had stopped laughing now. Everyone was staring at the two boys. The fight was on!

Kelson aimed a right hook – Matt dodged. He threw a punch, Matt blocked. He tried again, but Matt beat him. Matt was in his element, he saw that now. Matt was dancing, his feet flying, fists a blur. Rick was scared, so much so that he didn't even realize it.

The fight didn't last longer than three minutes. It had ended rather suddenly for both. Matt snapped out of the trance he'd been in to see Rick lying flat on his back, nose spurting blood and gasping for air. Matt barely remembered anything.

He looked up to see everyone staring at him, mouths hanging open like bear traps. Matt ran. He tore down the back allies of Hell's Kitchen, ashamed, both for disobeying his father and for liking the feeling of power in his blood. His lip was still bleeding, sending a trail of red down his chin and onto his ragged t-shirt.

oooooo

Matt opened his apartment door as fast as the stiff lock would allow. He didn't want the neighbors to see his battle wounds. He rushed to the tiny bathroom, searching for something – anything – to stop the bleeding. His eyes fell on a piece of toilet paper and he lunged for it, pressing it against his lip.

Matt looked at his reflection in the mirror. His knuckles looked like his father's after a fight, his cheeks fiery from his run, red hair an even bigger mess than usual. But what was strange was the unfamiliar look in his eyes. They were sparkling, and there was something behind them. It was courage and a certain confidence he'd never felt before.

Matt was still staring at himself when he heard the apartment door open. Matt jumped, his father wasn't supposed to be home till late.

"Mattie, are you home?" Jack called, his deep, boxer voice reverberating in the small apartment.

Matt jammed the toilet paper in his pants' pocket. "I'm in the bathroom. I'll be right out!" He thought about taking off his shirt to hide the blood drips, but he knew Jack would find out anyway. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Jack looked up from flipping through the channels to find the current match on TV. It didn't take him longer than a second to notice Matt's swollen and bloodied lip. His face changed from happy excitement at seeing his son to anger and disappointment. His voice went low.

"You promised me."

Matt winced. "I didn't mean to," he whispered. He loved his father more than anything and he knew his father loved him just as much, but that just made him feel even worse about disobeying him.

Jack exploded. "What do you mean? You promised me you wouldn't fight!"

"I know, but they made me crack. They have been teasing me for years and today was the final straw. I'm so sorry." But as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he wasn't. He wasn't sorry that he'd kicked Kelson's butt.

Jack could see Matt's realization, and that made him even angrier. Two seconds passed in silence, both Murdocks trying to stare the other down. Then Jack said something he knew he would regret as soon as he said it. "Get out and don't come back until you can show me that you will never do that again!"

Matt couldn't think. His mind went blank. Without saying a word, he turned around and closed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Pre-edited by Girlwithoutfear. Isn't that nice? **

* * *

Matt found himself running. He closed his eyes, hoping to keep the tears from coming, letting his feet take charge, not caring where he was headed.

His feet led him to the public library. He walked through the huge doors, determinately wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. He made a beeline to the historical biographies, his eyes scanning the stacks, searching for his favorite about Tsar Nicholas Romanov, the last Tsar of Russia. That way, if anyone saw him crying, he could just say it was the book.

Matt stayed at the library devouring books as if they were the only things keeping him together, barely moving for three hours, only coming up for air to get a new biography.

The librarian watched him silently. She knew Matt; he'd been coming to the library since he learned to read. She also knew she had to lock up soon, but she couldn't bring herself to disturb the teenage boy.

Finally, a couple of minutes before she would be forced to close the library, the librarian sat down next to Matt.

"Matthew, you've always been into books, but this is ridiculous." She winced; it had come out harsher than she'd wanted. "Do you want to talk?"

Matt looked up. All his tears had dried up long ago, but the librarian could see that his eyes were still slightly puffy. "Matt. What happened?" The librarian took in his fat lip. "Did your father do something?"

Matt jumped up, his face livid. "Don't ever say that to me! My father wouldn't lay a hand on me!" He charged out of the empty library, leaving the librarian in stunned silence.

oooooo

It was just starting to get dark. Matt stopped to catch his breath. All the running! Matt hadn't run so much in his life, but he wasn't tired. The endorphins had kicked in and his muscles were laughing in pleasure.

Matt took a moment to listen and gauge his surroundings. Little did he know, Matt would regret having stopped, would wish that he'd never heard the truck or seen the blind man inching across the street.

The truck was speeding, swerving down the street like a drunkard. The blind man hadn't noticed, but Matt did. He instinctively knew the man was going to get hit.

He was running again in an instant, practically soaring over objects. Witnesses would later swear the boy had been flying. Matt charged into the man. Suddenly the man was the one flying and Matt was falling.

The truck swerved a the very last second and smashed into a lamppost. Matt heard the drivers screaming something, and saw the cab of the truck burst into flames. In slow motion, Matt watched a canister of whatever it had been transporting fall from the bed of the truck.

His eyes opened wide as the canister exploded. For a frozen second, Matt found himself marveling at the beautiful colors that swam in front of his eyes. Then the moment was over and a searing pain coursed down his spine. He opened his mouth in a silent scream and the pain knocked him unconscious.

ooooo

Jack was drunk. After Matt stormed out the door, Jack had realized what he'd done. His own father had been abusive, and Jack had promised himself that his son would never feel like he had. Now he realized he'd failed.

Matt's mother left when Matt was barely a week old, but Jack had told him that she'd died. The result was the same; he'd raised Matt by himself. There had been some rough times, but as a whole, he thought he'd done well. He'd forbidden Matt to slack off. He'd congratulated every A and listened through most rants. He loved his son and he wanted him to have a better life and education than his had been.

Jack had dropped out of high school and become a boxer. When his drinking became too noticeable, his manager had dumped him, leaving him little choice but to become a hired thug. Matt knew his father wasn't a boxer anymore, but he didn't know any details. Jack couldn't bear to tell him where the money for food came from. For all his son knew - or he hoped his son knew, he was working odd jobs around the dock.

The ringing phone knocked Jack out of his quest to reach the bottom of the scotch bottle. He lifted himself out of the chair, wiping his teary eyes with a grubby sleeve.

Jack sniffed again, pulling himself together. "Hello?"

"Are you Mr. Jonathon Murdock?"

A cold hand grabbed Jack's throat. "Yeah, why?"

"Mr. Murdock, my name is Jane Bradford, I'm calling from Empire State Hospital…"

Jack dropped the phone. Suddenly he was sober. The woman must have continued to talk, but all Jack registered was that his son was in the emergency room. He didn't hang up the phone. Before the woman noticed he was gone, he was hailing a cab, the apartment door swinging dejectedly on its hinges

ooooo

Jack jumped out of the cab, not even caring about the fare or that he forgot his change. He charged up to the information desk and panted, "My son… Matthew Murdock…"

The nurse nodded kindly, obviously used to such a sight. "He's in surgery. If you take a seat, you can wait to talk to his surgeon."

"No! I want to see my son!"

"I understand that, but you are just going to have to wait." Jack wanted to punch the lady and go looking for his son, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He headed to a chair, trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that Matt was going to be fine. He kept thinking about how Matt had raced out of the apartment earlier, and before he realized it, the man who had intimidated more people than the IRS was crying into his hands.

Hours later, a voice woke up Jack . "Mr. Murdock? I need to talk to you."

Jack jerked awake. "Where's my boy?"

"He's in the recovery room, Mr. Murdock."

"What happened to him?" Jack's voice cracked. The news that Matt was in recovery was only a small comfort.

"Your son is very brave. He saved that man's life at great cost to his own."

Jack froze. The doctor's last sentence sent a shiver of dread down his spine despite the rush of pride and love. "What do you mean 'cost to his own'?" His voice cracked, "You said he was recovering." He was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.

"Well Mr. Murdock, I'm afraid something's happened to your son--"

"I know that! Why do you think I came?" Jack took a deep breath, trying and failing to rein in his emotions. "What happened?"

"As I was going to say, we're not totally sure. What we can tell you is there's still a chance he might not -- well -- be blind. We've done what we can." The doctor sat down, silently hinting that the hulking father should sit down again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock." He patted Jack on the back, causing Jack to flinch. He was beyond numb.

"When can I see him?" Jack's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I need to see my son."

"We have him sedated. The pain will be too much for him," the doctor swallowed at the look on Jack's face, "but you can see him in about two hours." He looked down, "If you want to go home and come back later--"

Once again, Jack interrupted. "I'm not going anywhere without Mattie!"

"I understand. If there's someone you need to call, there's a payphone across the hall." He paused again. "And Mr. Murdock? I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Ten minutes later, Jack took a deep breath and fed a couple of coins into the payphone. He dialed a number. He'd stared at that number so many times after Matt had shown up on his doorstep. As soon as it was answered, he said, "I need to talk to Maggie."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Thanks to Girlwithoutfear for her edits. **

* * *

Chapter Three

Jack stared at his son. Half of Matt's head was covered in bandages, and with the morphine and sedation, he was as still as death. The sight of his only child with tubes in his arm was like someone stabbing him then twisting the knife. Jack had to step outside. He couldn't cry in front of Matt, not when his son had to be strong.

He shut the door and faced the wall. Jack couldn't stop the tears that rushed out along with his conflicting emotions. The doctor who had given him the news patted him on the back, making him jump.

"It'll be alright, Mr. Murdock. Matt's out of danger," he said softly.

Jack sniffed, ashamed of the tears and his weakness. He pulled his shoulder away from the doctor's hand. "You don't know me." He tried to summon his inner thug, but he couldn't. The events of the day had scared it away. So Jack walked back into the room, if only to get away from the kind doctor.

"I'm sorry Mattie. I am so sorry…"

Ooooo

A nun quietly opened the hospital room's door. She tiptoed past the sleeping boxer, heading toward the boy.

"I can't tell you anything that you won't hear later. I just wanted to say that I love you. You and your father."

Matt groaned, still heavily drugged. Everything was fuzzy and distant; he couldn't concentrate on the woman's voice. He let the drugs take him back to oblivion.

The nun heard her son sigh as he fell back to sleep. She bent down and kissed him for the first time in almost fifteen years. She straightened and turned to leave.

"Maggie?" Jack was awake, staring at the woman he loved. "You're not leaving." It wasn't an order, more a plea.

Sister Maggie looked down at Matt and then back at the man. "I'll stay with him. You go home and take a shower." That was an order.

After a moment, in which Jack tried (and failed) to stare the nun down, he nodded. "I'll be back in an hour." He got up. "Maggie, I just wanted to tell you that I still love you. It's good to see you again, even if the reason…" He didn't finish the sentence, just walked out.

"I love you too, Jack," the nun whispered, but it was too late, he had gone. Matt turned again, and the sister sat down to watch her son.

ooooo

Matt awoke to deafening noise: a deep, rumbling sound; a drill coming from somewhere; a car backfiring; an insistent dripping; everything at once. He smelled everything. Someone was smoking outside his window. The orderly standing in the hall was sweating buckets. Then there were the less distinct smells wrapping around his head, pulling his brain.

Matt sprang up. He was screaming, the sound was killing his ears, but he couldn't stop. Everything was flooding his brain, and it hurt like he was on fire. The pain bit at his insides, eating him from the inside out. His brain was exploding with information.

Someone grabbed his wrists, "Mattie! Mattie, calm down! It's me!" Matt recognized his father's voice underneath all the noise. He tried to relax, tried to stop everything, tried to make it go away.

"Dad? What's wrong…?" Matt put his hand to his face, felt the bandages. He felt heat too. How strange? But it didn't matter.

"Later. The doctor's told me you shouldn't get too anxious." His father's voice was way too loud. It hurt too much. He stuffed his head under his pillow, but that only made his headache even worse.

Matt tried to push it back, but he couldn't, everything was too loud. And there was something else, he couldn't put his finger on it, but it wasn't something he was used to. It didn't really feel right.

"Shut it all off… shut it all off…" Matt mumbled. Jack called a nurse, and Matt fell back into in a drugged sleep.

ooooo

A day later Jack was asleep in the chair next to Matt's bed. Matt hadn't woken since that first time, and Jack had rarely left his bedside. Sister Maggie came to relieve him every once in a while, but she never stayed long. She didn't want Matt waking up and hearing her.

Jack was alone, snoring softly when a doctor came in. "Mr. Murdock, may we talk for a moment?"

Jack immediately sat up. "Why?"

"Let's go to my office, we want to lower Matt's sedative. We think it's time for him to wake up."

"Are you sure? I don't want my boy to scream like that ever again."

"Of course." The doctor led the way to his office. "Please, have a seat. Now, your son's tests just came back and I am afraid they confirm what we thought. Mr. Murdock, I'm afraid the damage to Matt's eyes was too great, there's nothing we can do. I'm sorry, but he'll be blind for the rest of his life."

Jack just sat there. He'd been preparing himself for this news for three days, but that didn't help. He felt like the floor had been yanked out from under him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nodded. "There's nothing we can do."

"Can I tell him?" Jack rubbed his aching eyes to hold back the inevitable tears; he'd cried enough.

"Of course. As soon as he wakes up."

"Thank you." Jack walked slowly back to the room, trying to think of a way to tell Matt that his memory of the world was the only thing he would ever see again. There was no easy way to say it. Jack opened the door as quietly as he could.

"Who's there?" A soft, drugged voice came from the bed.

"It's me, Mattie. Do you know where you are?"

Matt tried to sit up, but Jack's arm held him back. "No, with the amount of drugs in your system, you'll probably end up just where you started with another headache." Jack smiled.

"Where am I? What happened?"

Jack's smile faded. "You're in the hospital Matt. You've been here for about three days. Do you remember the accident?"

"I – I remember reading in the library. I ran out and saw the man…" Matt's voice trailed off as he remembered what came next. "The thing in the canister hit me, didn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Mattie. I've something to tell you, and you're not going to like it." Jack took a big breath to continue, but Matt interrupted.

"Yeah, I know. I'm blind. Probably for the rest of my life."

Jack looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"You were just talking to the doctor. The walls must be thin here, 'cause I could hear everything you said." Matt's head was beginning to throb again. He had to keep focusing on his dad's voice. Everything was so loud!

Jack's surprise went up another notch. "You couldn't have, we were down the hall." He was about to argue the point, if only to keep talking to his son, when he noticed his boy had fallen back to sleep. Jack pulled the covers back over his son, forgetting about everything. He sat back down to watch Matt sleep.

oooooo

Matt heard the sound of the cloth rubbing skin as the nurse unwrapped his head. It felt as if his head was getting smaller as she pulled the bandage down. For some reason he still had a hope of seeing his father's face when the last bandage was pulled away, but no. The only thing that greeted him was unforgiving darkness.

He heard an almost inaudible gasp from his father. He couldn't tell whether it was for sadness, happiness, or fear – maybe all three. Everything was still a jumble of sounds and smells. Matt was having trouble separating everything.

Jack's feelings overwhelmed him. He hadn't had so much sadness and regret in his gut since Matt's mother left him. He stared at his son, trying not to focus on the once-sea-blue eyes that were now a frosted gray. He tried to ignore the angry scars that circled those clouded eyes. He instead focused on Matt's rusty-red hair, his flushed cheeks, and strong, determined jaw. But try as he might, his eyes were still drawn to his son's, willing them to sparkle the way they had only two weeks ago. He shook his head, he needed to stay strong.

"Dad?" Matt turned to try and find his father. He realized he really didn't need to, but old habits diehard.

"I'm right here, Mattie." Jack stood up and sat on the bed next to his son.

The next couple of hours were spent with the rehab therapist as he explained the next step toward recovery. Matt could already tell it was going to long and rough. When the therapist finally left, Jack placed something on Matt's lap.

"I thought you might need these." Instead of feeling happy about giving Matt a present, Jack felt like he was condemning his son to a life of hiding.

Matt unwrapped the box slowly. He reached in and pulled out a pair of glasses. "Sunglasses?"

"The doctors said you were going to have some nasty scars for a while. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to feel awkward. I'm sorry."

"No, I really like them. I'm sure they'll come in handy." Matt put on the dark glasses. "How do I look?"

"Like you always did," Jack lied.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello all. Sorry for the terribly long delay; it's scholarship and scheduling time and things just keep piling up. Here's the next chapter, extra-long and pre-edited by girlwithoutfear. **

* * *

Chapter Four

"Now once more. You hold the cane--"

"I told you, I know!" Matt interrupted his orientation and mobility instructor for the third time. He hated these lessons. "How many times do I have to hear it?" He could feel his blood pressure rise and hear his own heart beat faster with every step. Less than two weeks into rehab and he already hated it.

"Until you realize you need it," Dave Bryant, Matt's instructor responded smoothly. Matt wasn't the first teenager he'd taught to live without sight, so he was used to the fight.

Matt snorted. "As I've told you, I don't need it!"

It was Dave's turn to snort, "Okay, show me." He pulled the cane out of Matt's hand.

"Fine." He concentrated. If anyone asked him what he was concentrating on, Matt wouldn't have been able to answer. Matt himself didn't know how he did what he did; he only knew that he could do it.

Slowly but surely, Matt started steering through the obstacles around the room. Instinctively, he knew where everything was. It was almost like seeing, but not quite. If Matt had to put the feeling into words he would say that it was like when you know that someone is behind you. That prickly feeling of being watched, except he knew it wasn't his brain playing tricks on him. He'd first noticed it a few days after the accident and had been experimenting since.

Dave was surprised, but not shocked; Matt wouldn't be the first to pick up echolocation so quickly. Matt was about to turn around and gloat when he tripped over something. In an instant, the man was beside him. "See what I mean, Matt?"

Matt pulled away from the man's helping hand, his ego wounded. "I can still get up by myself!" He wanted to run again, run like he had the day of his accident. Run as if nothing could stop him. But he knew he couldn't; there was nothing he could do.

"Come on, Matt. Let's get back to work. You almost have it." Dave was trying to be helpful, but it didn't help. If anything, it just made Matt even more depressed.

Matt snatched the cane from Dave's hand. Dave smiled, mistaking Matt's gesture as resolve rather than anger.

ooooo

Matt hadn't planned on sneaking out while Jack was sleeping, but now that he was here, he wasn't going to leave. The memories of a hundred fights swirled around him, and for the first time in a very long time, Matt smiled. He dropped the white cane; he didn't need it here.

The gym was a second home to Matt. He remembered coming here after school to see his father in the middle of a skirmish or lifting weights. Matt took a long, deep breath. His smile reappeared as he smelled the adrenaline of a hundred boxers, the sweat of a hard workout, and the faint, but unmistakable smell of blood. Yes, this was home.

Matt headed to the heavy punching bags. He was about to throw a punch when he suddenly realized that his father would notice his fists. He walked to the locker room, searching for some tape to wrap his knuckles. It didn't take very long.

Matt had watched his father wrap his hands for as long as he remembered, though Jack had never let him help. But that didn't matter; Matt wrapped his hands as if he'd done it a hundred times. Now he was ready.

He walked slowly back to the bag. Matt felt it, as if proving to himself it was still there. Then without thinking, he threw a punch. The bag made a soft _smack _as his fist connected.

"_He'll never see again…" _SMACK!

"_For bravery, I now present this certificate…" _SMACK!

"_You promised me, Mattie." _SMACK!

"_I'm sorry…" _SMACK!

"_Leave!" _SMACK! SMACK!

_White-hot pain. _

Matt punched harder. Tears he hadn't realized he'd been shedding were coursing down his face. He tried to make them stop, but he couldn't. Every emotion he'd been bottling up was pouring down his cheeks. He smashed the bag over and over again, not daring to stop because if he did, the world would fall apart.

Matt didn't stop until he realized he could hear the city that never sleeps come alive. He pulled the tattered tape from his fists, listening to the hotdog man set up outside. He felt deflated, but a little less alien than before.

ooooo

Jack looked at his son. He was proud of the progress Matt had made at his lessons, but he knew something was wrong. He wanted to sit him down and have a nice heart-to-heart but he knew that was impossible. Though he and Matt had always been close, they'd never been the kind of family that cried into each other's arms. No, they would cry alone into the pillows, trying to hide it from the other.

Not that they hadn't talked. A few weeks after the accident, he and Matt had had an argument. Jack hated to remember it. It had been over a trivial thing, something about Jack leaving Matt alone, but at least it had helped to remove some of the awkwardness that enveloped their small apartment. There were still some kinks to work out, though.

It had been five months since the accident, and today was the first day of school. Jack didn't want Matt to start school again so soon, but he knew it was now or never. Matt had worked through the last few months to salvage as much of his old life as he could and Jack was not about to stop him now. He only wished that he could do that without having to interact with his classmates. If only Jack had continued with school, he might have been able to afford to send his son to a private establishment, but now it was too late.

"Ready to go?" Jack asked. He tried to sound cheerful, but sending his newly disabled kid to high school was not on his list of exciting things.

Matt could hear the doubt in his father's voice, but he decided to ignore it. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Matt wanted to snort in response, but he knew his father was just being a parent. "No, they made sure to explain my classes and stuff."

"Can I at least walk you to the bus stop?"

"Yeah, sure." Matt reached out to grasp his father's upper arm. "Let's go then."

ooooo

Matt had tried to conceal as much of his nervousness as possible from his father. It wasn't getting around; he was fine with that. He'd spent a good chunk of the summer with his instructor on that. What he was really nervous about was the attention.

He'd always been the brain of the class, but even then, he'd managed to slip under most radar. Now the white cane stuck out like a lighthouse in the dark. Add that to the news about his accident and the mayor's commendation, and he stuck out even further. Gone were the days when he could blend in with a crowd. Matt took a deep breath, and walked off the bus.

Matt headed to his homeroom, English Literature. The first bell hadn't rung yet, but Matt wanted to get there early to grab a seat in the back. He'd decided to find a seat that was as out of the way as possible and hibernate for a while.

He'd only just walked in when the bell rang for the start of school. Matt flinched at the razor-sharp sound cutting through his already tense brain. The sound of hundreds of dragging feet didn't help the matter, either.

"Mr. Murdock?" his new teacher asked tentatively. "They said you were coming." Matt could tell his teacher was almost as nervous as he was. "My name is Mr. Dighton."

Matt didn't know whether he should shake the man's hand or something, so he compromised by just saying, "Hi. It's Matt."

"Ah, yes." The awkwardness was back. "Is there something you need?"

"Just a chair," Matt replied, his radar sense (as he'd decided to call the strange awareness) telling him Dighton was leaning in to grab his arm, something Matt hated.

The teacher looked at him for a few seconds, obviously about to say something else when another student caught his attention. Matt sighed in relief, heading for a seat in the far corner.

"Um, Matt. I--um--heard about your…" Matt's 'friend', Brice, didn't finish his sentence.

"Accident?" Matt finished, turning around to face the friend who'd never once called to ask how he was. He tried to face Brice's eyes, but he wasn't sure if it worked.

"I meant to call, but – " Brice stammered.

"I don't really care." Matt continued his journey to the back of the room. His anger went up a notch. No one had called him from school in the five months of his rehab. He'd never been Mr. Popular, but he'd thought he'd had friends. Now he didn't bother fooling himself.

Matt could hear everyone turning in his or her seats or stopping at the door to look at him. He understood their curiosity; he was, after all, the only blind guy in their high school. And those who knew him remembered him to be the class genius, or in a meaner sense, geek. But as usual, knowing the reason didn't make it any easier to ignore. He gritted his teeth and sat down.

The class wore on with Matt constantly having to play blind and deaf to the endless whispers and badly, if at all, hidden gestures. Matt's patience was in shreds by the time the bell shrilled for second block. He breathed a sigh of relief; nothing could be as bad as the last hour and a half.

Matt headed to American history, perhaps one of his favorite courses. He was about to walk up the extremely crowded steps when someone stopped him. "Do you need some help?"

Matt held back a grimace. He was about to respond with a resounding "NO" when he realized he should at least try and be civil. "No thanks, my class is only up these stairs and twelve steps to the right."

"Wow. How do you do know that already?" The girl seemed genuinely interested, and for some reason Matt couldn't stop himself.

"I got my schedule last month, and they made sure I knew where I was going." Matt explained, wishing he could shut his mouth and sink into the floor. Unfortunately, physics had to rear its ugly head.

"You're lucky. I'm completely lost." The girl was fidgeting, but to Matt's surprise, it wasn't because of him. "I can't find my next class."

For some reason, Matt found himself pitying the girl. "Well, what is it? I might have it too."

"American history with Ms. Gardener or something."

Matt laughed. "Looks like this is your lucky day. I'm in American history with Ms. Greener as well." Matt stopped in front of the room. "My name's Matt Murdock."

"Tory O'Brian."

The two students walked into the class, but before Matt could head to the back of the room again, he heard the teacher say: "Go to the bulletin board. In this class, you have assigned seats." She sounded so happy about it, as if she were giving the whole class a gift or something.

"Typical," Matt muttered under his breath. Tory, who was standing right beside him, heard.

"You want me to tell you where you are?" she asked, understanding immediately.

Matt shelved his pride and replied, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, sure." Tory came back a few seconds later saying, "You're right in front of me." She made to grab his arm, but Matt stopped her before she could.

"I take you, not the other way around." It came out harsher than he'd meant, but Tory didn't seem to take offence. She just shrugged and let Matt grasp her arm.

Matt jumped when the bell rang for the start of the period. The whole class went silent, watching the teacher to see how strict she was going to be.

"Good morning class," Ms. Greener's voice had a no nonsense tone to it, "Welcome to American history. I have some forms I would like you to fill out." She held up a stack of papers. "Follow the directions."

Ms. Greener walked down the rows, dropping the usual first day of school information sheets on everyone's desk. She stopped at Matt's desk and stage-whispered, "I've already got yours, Mr. Murdock." She patted him on the back and moved on. Once again, Matt found his teeth clinching.

The period inched on, only getting interesting in the last twenty minutes with Ms. Greener saying, "To get into the mood of things, we're going to have a short discussion." Matt sat up; he was good with discussions.

"First question: Who was the first person to record landing on American soil?"

Matt's hand jumped up faster than lightening. Ms. Greener looked around before finally calling on him. Matt took a deep breath. "Leif Erickson in 1001."

Greener was surprised, but she hid it well. The sniggers and attention doubled ten-fold. No one had expected the blind boy to raise his hand, let alone be right. Ms. Greener continued with more pop questions, but Matt forced his hand to stay down. He decided showing off once in this class period was enough. He was happier than he'd thought he would be to hear the shrill bell again. Matt left the classroom as fast as he could.

Lunch and third period passed the same way as the first two. Matt gritted his teeth as people pointed and whispered.

Fourth period trigonometry was different, however. It started out fine, until Matt heard a familiar voice. Richard Kelson was sitting right in front of him, and unlike most people, the glasses didn't at all intimidate Rick.

"Hello Daredevil. Where ya been?" Rick seemed to have forgotten his match with Matt almost five months ago.

"Kelson," Matt acknowledged roughly. Some part of him blamed Rick for his accident, however irrational that was. Matt couldn't help but think of what might have happened had he not fought the bully.

Later, Matt stood up to give his review sheet to the teacher, ignoring everyone's offers to turn it in for him. He pulled out his cane, tapping like his instructors had instructed, but Rick was too fast. Matt's radar told him too late that the foot was there.

Matt landed flat on his stomach, his foot tangled on Rick's leg. The class went quieter than the grave. "Mr. Kelson, may I see you outside for a moment?" the teacher asked, almost whispering in anger.

Someone leaned down to try and help Matt up, but Matt pushed the hand away. "I am fine, I don't need help!" he growled. Matt had had enough; he grabbed his cane, pushing his sunglasses back on his nose, trying not to listen to his teacher bawl-out Kelson.

When the bell rang for the final time, Matt left as fast as he could, his face ablaze with embarrassment and anger. He didn't bother waiting at the bus stop, he knew Hell's Kitchen like the back of his hand.

oooooo

"Hey Mattie! How'd it go?" Jack asked as soon as he opened the stiff front door.

For a second Matt contemplated telling him the truth, which was that he'd just had the worst first day of school in his life and he just wanted to kill himself. But one listen to his father's heartbeat told him he couldn't. "It was okay. My teachers seem nice."

Jack was too relieved to notice the fake under-tone in his son's voice. "I knew it would be fine!" Jack hesitated, "Let's go celebrate." He knew going out to eat would be a strain on their harsh budget, but he wanted to do something special for his son's first day.

Matt was thinking the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to disappoint his father, especially after he'd just lied to him again. So twenty minutes later he and Jack were sitting down in a plastic-covered booth.

Jack picked up the laminated menu, scanning for something good. "Well Mattie, what would you like? They have burgers and the sandwiches look good."

Matt was having trouble sorting out the different smells from the overall stench of grease and cheap deodorant. "I think I'll just take a burger," he answered after a minute.

As soon as Jack finished ordering, Matt started on an edited version of his first day of high school.


End file.
